


Small Spaces

by ragefear



Series: Time in the Devildom - Mine, and Yours [2]
Category: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!
Genre: Anxiety, Cuddles, Fluff, Gender-Neutral Main Character (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), I'm new here, Other, Paranoia, please excuse my poor tagging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2020-06-02
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:06:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24514318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ragefear/pseuds/ragefear
Summary: When your life is constantly under threat in the Devildom, it can take a toll on your mental health. Thank goodness the Avatar of Pride is here to reassure you.
Relationships: Lucifer (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader
Series: Time in the Devildom - Mine, and Yours [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1887535
Comments: 6
Kudos: 194





	Small Spaces

When you awake, your focus isn’t on the pounding in your chest or the hot tears pricking the corners of your eyes. You stare at the ceiling, dimly lit by the starlight filtering in through your open curtains. There’s barely any illumination, and so the ceiling looks like swirls of unknown shadow. Was it moving? Of course it wasn’t. But the feeling in your chest stays the same.

A few deep breaths and a sip of the now-lukewarm water from the glass on the bedside table and you are fully awake, and only slightly calmer. You lay back down and close your eyes, going through the motions of returning to sleep. Allowing the mind to wander, the breathing to even… and you lay there for what becomes a disorienting hour-like set of minutes, before sitting up. Your body craves movement, and so you supply.

It’s only been a month since your arrival at the House of Lamentation. Unsurprisingly, living in the world of demons has given you a predisposition towards nightmares, though none are very serious. This is not the first time you’ve made a midnight walk, and you’re mostly familiar with which floorboards are the squeaky ones. But tonight is not a search for a midnight snack, hoping Beel had left something for you. Your feet pound the floor heels-first, concerned about distance and nothing else. You try to stay at least a little quiet--if you woke Asmo or Satan you knew you’d need another intervention to keep your blood all safely stored within your laughably fragile mortal shell. The House is so large that your aimless wandering takes you down staircases and through hallways you’d never explored in the daytime.

The tension in your body is not eased by your wandering. You’d go for a run, if you weren’t absolutely terrified of what the alleys of a midnight Devildom could hold. You pick up the pace--not quite a jog, but not really a walk either. The corridors begin to seem too open to you, too exposed, and your eyes dart around for a hiding space. Your rational mind, held hostage by anxiety, knows this is silly. But it would not be the first time you have jammed yourself under a desk or into a closet in an effort to find safety. 

Which is how you find yourself squirming into the meager crawlspace under a spiraling staircase. The cool stone wall on your right provides a soothing stability to your shaken state, even though the stairs themselves push somewhat painfully into lines on your back. You push with your heels, shoving yourself in even farther, and within this enclosed space you get ahold of your breathing. _You’re safe here_.

Of course, safe, within the Devildom, is a very relative concept. Within this very house you’ve been threatened by half of its members, and you figure it’s only a matter of time until the other three have their moments. With Mammon and Levi in a pact you at least have some protection--though you aren’t sure how eagerly Leviathan would come to your aid, since you don’t really seem to have any way to control the pact demons. And if Lucifer is the one doing the threatening, well…

Your breath halts as you hear the echo of dress shoes in the stone hall. You open your mouth to cut out any sound, breathing as slowly as possible. With your eyes closed, you do your best to pretend to be a stone wall. The evenly-paced tapping could only belong to one member of the Lamentation household, and he’s the one who holds the most power over your fate. The prideful first-born’s incredibly strict adherence to the rules means that this small trespass of being out past curfew could lead to any number of creative punishments, not to mention proving your untrustworthiness as a human. You forcefully derail that train of thought and lean harder into the stone wall. _I am a stone. I am a stone. I am a stone_.

The tapping gets louder, louder even than the pounding in your ears, and then begins to fade. You hold your breath, almost ready to breathe a sigh of relief, when the sound stops, and then gets louder again. Your heart falls as you see black slacks and well-polished shoes stop directly in front of your hiding space. You close your eyes as if you could somehow block him out, but that deep voice cuts through whatever illusion you’re trying to think yourself into.

“What do you think you’re doing in there?”

You’d love to have a snarky reply on demand, but at that moment your throat closes up and you curl yourself harder into a ball, wishing for all the world that you had the fancy demon power of disappearing forever. You try to take a deep breath, but the presence of another person has disturbed your hard-won equilibrium, and your breath catches. Through brute force alone you manage to hold yourself back from sobbing.

“Are you ill?” The deep voice has gone from sharp and just a little bemused to somewhat concerned. You shake your head, and once again through sheer force of will, you manage a few words.

“Nope. Just fine.”

There is a long silence wherein you berate yourself. There is no situation in which this makes you look ‘just fine’. Hide-and-seek aside, your body is shaking, and it feels like your brain is rattling inside it. You push even harder into the hard stone wall, trying to force yourself back to reality. When something touches your head you flinch away, assuming you’re about to be dragged from your hiding space.

“Come now, there’s no point in lying to a principal ruler of demons.” Instead the hand settles on your hair, almost… tenderly? “Is there something amiss in our accommodations? Is there something more that can be done to make our human guest more comfortable?”

“N-no. Thanks.” The low, conversational tone helps settle that shaken feeling, and Lucifer’s hand in your hair feels more grounding than the wall, especially once he starts gently scratching at your scalp. 

“Then who is responsible for this?” At your silence, his tone turns darker. “Has one of the lesser demons caused any problems? Have you faced harassment? If so, report their names to me immediately--”  
“Nothing like that, Lucifer. Thank-you,” you add on after a moment’s hesitation. “I just.... I know it sounds silly. I’ve done it since I was a kid. Sometimes, I just stick myself into small spaces to feel safe.”

“Ah.” The gentle scratching stops. “Does my presence here impede your sense of safety?”

“No! Not at all.”

“What has caused you to feel unsafe, then? If not one of the lesser demons, then--if one of my brothers has--”

“It just happens sometimes! Nobody said anything.” _That’s not entirely true_ , you think, remembering some of Levi’s or Beel’s rage, or the disgust you’d faced from Asmo, the dismissive comments of Satan, even Mammon’s treatment of you on day one. 

There is a long pause, and you can _hear_ Lucifer waiting for your actual answer.

“Nobody said anything _recently_. It’s just… this is new, you know? I’ve been here for a month, surrounded by demons, surrounded by danger, and some of you seem to forget that I’m fragile. I’m weak, and I’m helpless. It’s one thing if Beel and Mammon go full demon and get into a tussle in the kitchen over pudding. But any fraction of that power could probably just kill me instantly. I survive here solely on the grace and goodwill of demons whose immortal nature makes them prone to forgetting that I could literally die at ANY SECOND, and--”

“I won’t let that happen.”

Your entire train of thought is derailed by this one phrase. Your mind is instead awash with other thoughts-- _you’re the most powerful of them all, you’re the most terrifying, should I fall out of your goodwill would I just cease to exist?_ But you keep them to yourself.

“You are our most valued guest here, and it is my responsibility to keep you safe and sound. I will not fail in this aspect. It is a matter of… pride.”

The hand he has smoothing over your hair moves to your back, and you squeak in surprise as you are dislodged from your hiding space. Your surprise is even greater when you look up to see Lucifer sitting right in front of you, arms open.

“Now, as it is my responsibility to ensure that you feel safe, I offer you a better alternative than wedging yourself under a staircase.” He holds his arms open, and you’re left gaping even as you nod, and are pulled into a warm embrace. His body is, of course, superhumanly warm, and as he wraps his arms and coat around you, you have to wonder what an absurd situation you find yourself in. The Avatar of Pride, while not as obviously stacked as his gluttonous brother, holds you tight, fingers brushing along your scalp, and you find your heartbeat settling into a regular rhythm. You wonder, very briefly, if he’ll be upset with you falling asleep.

~~ ~~ ~~

Beel looks up from the fridge, startled at the sound of Lucifer’s shoes on stone. He didn’t usually make his rounds through the kitchen for another half-hour. Snatching as many pudding cups as he can, he finds he’s too late to escape as he meets Lucifer’s direct gaze.

They stand there in silence for a moment, Beel’s arms full of pudding cups, Lucifer’s arms full of sleeping human. Lucifer gives him a curt nod, and Beel hesitantly nods back as his eldest brother walks out of the kitchen, heading through towards the staircase to the bedrooms. With the fridge still open, Beel snags a couple more puddings, and then walks himself back to bed.


End file.
